


Lost World?

by CassandraTheRed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, Humor, equipment malfunction, it's a jungle out there literally, non-canon character names, sweary characters are sweary, unexpected wildlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraTheRed/pseuds/CassandraTheRed
Summary: After a mishap with a teleporter, two of RED's finest realize they're not in Dustbowl anymore...





	Lost World?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday ficlet for Z., my RP partner/BFF for the last sixteen years (and counting!). Many happy returns to my sister from another mister!
> 
> In our TF2 RPs, which have been going on about 6-7 years now (!), RED!Sniper's first name is Jed and RED!Engie is Ben, so I stuck with that.

When Jed stumbles away from the teleporter exit, he lands on his hands and knees, hard, the impact making him drop his rifle. He reaches for the weapon as the swarm of red particles dissipates, disentangling himself from the long fern fronds around his ankles, and starts to stand. "Ah, piss--"

Wait. Fern fronds?

The Sniper gets to his feet in a hurry, scowling. One minute Dustbowl, and now...here.

Whatever 'here' is, it's lush green and humid; his shirt's already sticking to his back, and beneath the screeches of unseen creatures, he can hear the drip of water from foliage, the gurgle of a nearby stream. Everything but birds. He doesn't hear birds, and this place looks like nowhere he's seen. Maybe Ben will know something--

Ben. He'd followed the Engineer, and now there's no sign of the man. Jed swears under his breath and takes a deep breath to shout. "Ben? Truckie, if you've left me 'ere I'll--"

"Mundy? That you, longshanks?" The shout is a little distant, and Jed looks in its direction, into the--jungle? forest? It's hard to tell; the tangled trees are strange, the ferns are huge and towering--but it's a couple of minutes, at least, before he hears twigs snapping under human feet, and Ben Conagher emerges from the trees, hard hat askew and shotgun over his shoulder, mud and bits of vine smeared up his boots. He swipes blood from a cut on his cheek and looks Jed over, breathing hard. "You okay, campground? Got your gun intact?"

"Yeah. Kind o' shook up, but awright." Jed eyes him. "...Teleporter malfunction? When _you_ built it?"

"Seems like," Ben agrees, scratching his chin. "Not that a damn scrap of anythin' survived on this end, least not that I can see from where you landed." He kicks at the ground and gets a boot caught in a fern. "Dammit." He sighs, pulling free, looking around. "Still, I can think o' slightly worse places to get spit out than what looks like the middle o' the goddamn Amazon..."

So. No easy way back that doesn't involve trekking a few thousand miles. Jed frowns; heads will roll for this, probably their own. But hell, they're alive for now. "Yeah," he concedes, "least we're on solid ground--"

A hoarse scream rips the air, sending the jungle noises scattering. Both men look up just in time to see something swoop overhead, something leathery-winged and huge that throws a shadow over them. It hovers for an instant and is gone, and Jed straightens up, realizing he'd ducked. "...Mind tellin' me what that was, mate?"

Ben's staring up at the sky with a fixed, almost dazed look, mouth working silently. It's several seconds before he can get out, "Pteranodon."

"'S what I thought." Jed grimaces. "Dinosaur."

"Yep."

"Fuckin' _flyin'_ dinosaur."

"Yep." Ben shakes his head. "Good news is, they're native to North America, so we ain't _too_ far from home...relatively speakin'. Bad news is, we ain't got respawn, we don't have extra ammo or any way to make it, I ain't got a clue in _hell_ what year it is...an' to whatever else is around here, we're prob'ly snack-sized."

Behind them, in the depths of the jungle, something roars. Something else shrieks in pain. The ground vibrates beneath their feet.

Jed grips his rifle. "...We're in the shit, ain't we?"

"Ten miles wide an' four foot deep, buddy. Helluva time to not have the Doc handy." Ben claps him on the shoulder and huffs out a sour laugh. "Look at it this way. Maybe that damn thing'll come back an' we'll get to see if it tastes like chicken."


End file.
